Page 2 of His Untamed Craving

Well, someone's got their boxers in a twist over a little internet exposure. I open my mouth to protest, but he keeps on rolling like a runaway freight train.

"You're all the same, you know. Thrill-chasing parasites trying to suck every last drop of meaning and authenticity from the things we love for some cheap clicks and views online."

I bristle at the unfair accusation, but he's not done yet.

"So you can take your little camera and your hashtags and shove them straight up your—"

"Whoa there, mountain man." I raise my hands in a placating gesture, cutting him off before this gets any more X-rated. As tempting as it is to let my own fiery temper flare in response, I know that's the opposite of what I need right now if I want to get through to him.

Squaring my shoulders, I meet that searing gaze head-on. "I think you've got me confused with some basic blogger chick looking to go viral by sensationalizing your life, but I can guarantee you I'm cut from a different cloth."

I pause, letting my words sink in as I take a small step closer to him. Lowering my voice to an intimate murmur, I continue, "I don't give a damn about cheap thrills or internet fame. I'm here for something far bigger."

Wyatt's lips part as if to speak, but I barrel on before he can respond.

"You're living the life I want to help others discover, Wyatt Croft—a life without limits. That's why I'm here."

For a long, tense moment, we simply stand there, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension. Then, slowly, the hard edges around his eyes seem to soften ever so slightly. His tongue darts out, wetting those tantalizingly full lips as he leans in closer, the rumbling growl of his voice washing over me.

"You've got one hell of a silver tongue, I'll give you that." The faint hint of a smirk plays at the corner of that sinfully lush mouth as he leans back, regarding me with an appraising look. "How do I know you're not just all talk?"

But just as I'm about to answer, Wyatt holds up a finger, effectively silencing me.

"No, you know what? I have an idea." That smirk blossoms into a full-blown grin now, all cocksure arrogance and bravado. "If you’re really as ‘different’ as you say you are, prove it. Do you think you can handle it?”

Lifting my chin in silent challenge, I hold his heated gaze. "Bring it on."

That cocky grin stretches even wider, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that makes him look almost boyish. Almost.

"Suit yourself. Meet me at Grizzly Meadows Basecamp tomorrow morning at 0600. We'll see if that bravado of yours holds up on a little weekend climbing excursion up the Fang." He jerks his chin toward the towering, menacing granite spire that's been taunting me ever since I arrived in Silverpine.

My heart skips a beat. The Fang... as in, one of the most notoriously difficult and dangerous climbs in the entire Rocky Mountain range? Sweet hell.

But even as my mind whirs with visions of shredded fingertips and shattered bones, I can't help but feel a rush of exhilarated adrenaline coursing through my veins. This man may think he's calling my bluff with this insane challenge, but he's sorely mistaken. I've been waiting for an opportunity like this to push past the limits and prove my mettle on a whole new playing field.

So, with a devilish grin that would make the Cheshire Cat proud, I simply nod. "It's a date."

The words are barely out of my mouth before Wyatt turns on his heel and strides toward the exit, his broad shoulders squared beneath that snug, moisture-wicking shirt that leaves little to the imagination. Just as the bell above the door jingles his departure, he pauses.

"Here. You're gonna need it more than me." And just like that, a bright green canister comes sailing through the air, which I catch on pure instinct.

My gaze flicks down to the energy drink in my grasp, then back toward the now empty doorway where that rugged adventurer just stood. A slow, giddy smile spreads across my face as the realization dawns—I'm finally in.

This is the shot I've been waiting for. Sure, it's not going to be easy. In fact, if this little warm-up was any indication, getting that exclusive will be one hell of an extreme feat.

But as I stand there, clutching the energy drink in one hand and already itching to document this wild ride, one thought rings out loud and clear.

Game on.

Chapter 2

Wyatt

The crisp mountain air nips at my exposed skin as I give my gear one final, meticulous once-over at Grizzly Meadows Basecamp. Every carabiner, rope, and cam gets my undivided scrutiny—even the slightest oversight could spell disaster on a monster like the Fang.

Satisfied, I shoulder my pack and turn to take in the imposing granite spire jutting defiantly skyward, its dagger-like peak stabbing the horizon. Just the sight alone has my blood thrumming with anticipation of the insane adrenaline rush to come.

A muffled thud and a muttered "Shit!" behind me shatters my single-minded trance. I whirl around to find that same bold, curvy distraction from the outfitters shop standing there, decked out in full-on climbing attire.